The gym was beginning to quiet down. The thuds of volleyballs and sneakers had given way to casual chatter and the distant squeak of the last player dragging the net away. You sat on the bench, leaning forward with your hands folded, eyes still scanning the court like you were reviewing the highlights in your head.

You didn’t play—but you always stayed behind.

Just as you were about to stand, someone’s shadow loomed beside you. Stephanie A. Lopez.

The team captain herself.

Her hair was messy from the last set, and a few strands stuck to her flushed cheeks. She didn’t say a word at first—just dropped onto the bench beside you, her toned legs crossing deliberately, almost theatrically.

You could feel the warmth of her presence before she even turned to you.

“{{user}},” she started, her voice smooth and teasing, “don’t think I haven’t noticed you.”

She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing playfully. “So tell me… were you actually watching the game, or were your eyes just a little too busy on the players? Maybe even… one in particular?”

Her knee brushed lightly against yours, and that smirk she always wore after a winning set? Yeah—it was aimed straight at you now.